L'amour Is A Scary Thing
by Captain Quirky
Summary: "Francis Bonnefoy was a normal person. If you ignored the two little children locked in his basement." Platonic CanSey, numerous warnings inside.


**(A/N: OKAY. Lots of warnings. Before you read this story and are horrified and think, what kind of disturbed person is this author, read the warnings first. **

**WARNINGS: Pedophilism, (non-graphic) rape, abuse, violence-ish, (non-blood related) incest, moderate cussing**

**So this is a platonic CanSey short story based on a drabble (Chapter 4 of my other story, Of Flowers and Battlefields) based on a picture. And since I spent four hours writing this (but it's only 4,000 words? What the hell, brain, that's like 1,000 words an hour!) and it gave me a massive headache, I hope it's at least a _little_ better than the drabble it was based off of. Oh, and I don't own Hetalia or the pic this is based off of. **

**(Victoria = Seychelles in this, cause it's her capital. It's really creative, I know.)**

**Anyhoo, I don't normally write things like this, so I'm new to it. I hope I did the genre **_**some **_**justice, and I hope you enjoy, but lower your expectations first. :D This fic is pretty much inspired by The Fairy Cake and her lovely reviews, so if you like this, thank her, and if you don't like this, blame her XD)**

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><p><em><strong>i. Francis<strong>_

Francis Bonnefoy was a normal person. He woke up way too early for work, he disliked his colleagues (especially a certain Mr. Kirkland), and he spent his free time addressing his mid-life crisis by buying fancy cars and bringing home women much too young for him. Yes, Francis was average in every way…

If you ignored the two little children locked in his basement.

Matthew and Victoria, _dieu _bless their souls, were growing like weeds. They also were, Francis feared, beginning to outgrow him. Victoria was rapidly developing curves and other things that normal 16 year old girls develop, and the white dresses he bought her were starting to be entirely too short on her. Matthew was approaching Francis' height and could nearly look down at the man, even though he was only 14 years old. Even as Francis looked proudly at the children he raised, he couldn't help but feel a pang of worry every time Victoria announced she had grown out of another dress and every time Matthew leaned down to hear what Francis was saying. Francis had heard horror stories from Kirkland – _during a drunken rant that will never be mentioned again, because they were enemies, damn it- _about how Kirkland's little boy, Alfred, had rebelled against him and left him behind so Alfred could be on his own.

At first, Francis had tried to think nothing of Kirkland's story. Francis had faith in his _petit Mattieu _and his _belle Victoire_, and besides, Kirkland's kid had probably left him because Kirkland was the most boring stiff Francis had ever met in his life. But other colleagues began chipping in their family sob stories – _when they really should have been working instead of scaring the living shit out of Francis_. Ivan Braginsky ruminated over a time when his entire family ran off and abandoned him, pointedly ignoring that a certain sister of his was still loitering nearby. Yao Wang painted a tale of betrayal in which his eldest, Kiku, had the nerve to drag his younger sister with him when he left the house. But okay, Ivan was a lunatic and Yao could never be taken seriously as a parental figure. Francis was Francis, and his adorable children that he had smothered with _l'amour_ wouldn't dream of leaving him…right?

But the more he thought about, the more Francis thought he should be safe, just in case, because he didn't know_ what_ he'd do if they left him. Yes, it was probably safer for everyone to ensure they couldn't leave, he reasoned.

And so he had kept them in the basement. This had been going on for so long that any verbal complaints from the two children had died down already.

If Francis saw anything wrong with his method of "parenting", he figured his problem was that he loved too much. He had poured all his love into Victoria, showering her with extravagant gifts and the finest French cuisine. She had never had to work a day in all her years of life and got all the allowance money she needed from "big brother Francis". By the time Matthew had joined the duo, Francis had hardly any love left to share. But he somehow found it in him to love Matthew just as lavishly. And so Francis went to bed every night, exhausted and drained of his love, but satisfied that he put a smile on their little faces.

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><p><em><strong>ii. Matthew<strong>_

Only thing was, Matthew's smiles were becoming fake over time. Once, Francis had been a great older brother figure whom Matthew adored. But since Matthew had grown older and taller, things were becoming different. He had hardly questioned it when Francis began locking them in the basement (though Victoria had thrown quite the fuss) because he never really went outside anyway. But he couldn't say that he liked staying inside all day long, especially since he had started growing attached to a tiny little bear cub he had seen outdoors, one he had named Kumajirou…or was it Kumatarou?

But locking them in the basement wasn't the only strange thing Francis had done nowadays. Francis used to bring home new women left and right, explaining that they were merely acquaintances. But Matthew had used to have Alfred for a brother, and Alfred knew all sorts of things that he really shouldn't have known at his age. So Matthew had figured the women Francis brought home were actually, as Alfred put it, his "fuck-buddies". However, the steady stream of anyone with two X chromosomes seemingly stopped recently. Instead of spending his nights in his room with the new girl of the week, Francis now spent his nights down in the basement with Matthew and Victoria, reminding them how much he loved them every two seconds and cuddling a little too close while they watched movies together. Matthew had noticed that Francis' hugs with Victoria were starting to become a little more intimate, and thus Matthew began growing a little uncomfortable around his "big brother".

Even though Matthew had survived through a horrid few years of being ignored and neglected by everyone around him (before Francis had taken him in), Matthew gave a sigh of relief every night when Francis finally left them alone and went up the stairs.

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><p>"<em>You can call me big brother." Francis smiled down at the boy and took his hand. <em>

_Matthew nodded, blushing at the attention this man gave him. "Oui… big brother." _

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><p><em><strong>iii. Victoria<strong>_

One time, Victoria had tried to escape the basement. It was a stupid plan, one that Matthew had tried to talk her out of the second she came up with it. But she was a wild spirit, and damned if she was going to listen to "Just stay in the basement"when she didn't want to. However, Francis had caught her in the act, and he had not been pleased at all. _Because even though she was only trying to leave the basement, not leave __**him, **__it was still entirely too similar to Kirkland and Alfred, and Yao and Kiku. _

Francis' idea of a punishment was to take away her allowance and not give her any croissants or dessert for a month. At first, Victoria thought she had gotten off easy. But things quickly became a thousand times worse than before her escape attempt.

Francis began clinging to her side all the more often. It had seemed innocent and parental, the same way Francis had always seemed, until she saw how different she and Matthew were treated. When Francis looked at Matthew, his blue eyes sparkled, and he gave him a brotherly hug, maybe a pat on the head, and a casual yet sincere _"__Je t__'adore"_. When Francis turned to her, his eyes clouded over in a mixture of hurt, adoration, and something she couldn't quite place…When he hugged her, his trembling hands came a little too close to her rear, and his lips came a little too close to hers. He muttered in a passionate voice, quite unlike the tone he used with Matthew, _"Je __t'aime__, je __t'aime__, ma __chérie__…" _After he walked away from the most recent embrace, Victoria could finally put a name to what else she saw in his eyes. Something she had seen in his eyes when he guided the women (the ones he used to serial date) to his bedroom. Lust.

Victoria, as a girl of strong opinions, felt that she no longer wanted to be in "big brother's" company. And though she felt a pang of guilt, as she had cared much for Francis and felt grateful towards him in the past for taking her in and caring for her, she also felt that he was dangerous to be around now. And she knew, the second she felt this, that she would go to any lengths necessary to free both her and her beloved younger brother Matthew from Francis' now perverse clutches.

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><p>"<em>Victoria, ma <em>_chérie__!" Francis called to the much younger girl. She immediately jumped into his arms and beamed a toothy grin missing its two front teeth. _

"_Look, big brother, I caught a fish!" She held up a tiny koi fish she had plucked from their pond, and subsequently shoved it in his face. He held back a look of disgust at the decidedly inelegant and smelly food choice in front of him. _

_Victoria waited for a moment, before pouting and asking, "Well, aren't you going to do __**that**__?"_

"_What? Oh-" The man's confused look turned into an understanding grin as he picked up Victoria from underneath her arms and swung her around in a circle. "You're my girl, Victoire!" He placed her back down and ruffled her chocolate brown hair. _

_Victoria smiled wider. She enjoyed being swung around whenever she achieved something, but she thought she enjoyed being called his "girl" even more. _

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><p><em><strong>iv. Matthew<strong>_

It was a Monday that she told him her plan for them to escape. He warned her again that she shouldn't go through with it and that it was a bad idea, but some corner of his heart hoped that it might work. He attempted to squash that part of his heart.

It was a Tuesday that Victoria boycotted dinner and shoved away the plateful of food in front of her. She gave Matthew a pointed look as if he should do the same, but Francis looked at him in turn, smiling but looking somehow demanding at the same time. Matthew felt like this was an important decision, but feeling intimidated by Francis' overbearing gaze, Matthew looked down and took a bite of his _foie__gras_. He tried not to look at Victoria turning away from him with a scowl, and he also idly thought that the _foie__gras_had never tasted quite so much like guilt and pent-up feelings before. It was a little on the bland side, too.

It was a Wednesday that Victoria left scratches on the basement door. She never expected the reinforced door would yield to her scratching, however…she apparently just wanted Francis to know that she was doing it. Later that same day, Francis nonchalantly painted over the scratches. They were still visible, and they would always still be visible, reminding them all of Victoria's balls, though Alfred (and Francis when teaching one of his particularly inappropriate life lessons) said girls don't have those. Matthew had trouble sleeping that night. Victoria's stomach was growling loudly from another boycotted dinner, and the sound resounded throughout the room and made it difficult to sleep.

It was a Thursday that Francis strode confidently into the basement, his jaw steely and set. He dragged Victoria by the hand, though she fought him every step of the way, and slammed the scratched door behind them. She didn't come back to the room that night, and Matthew was suddenly afraid of Francis for the first time in his life. He spent the night shivering and huddled up in his bed, just waiting for Victoria to burst through the door looking absolutely fine.

It was a Friday when she came back to the basement looking like a fire that had gone out. She didn't discuss the escape plans anymore. She didn't discuss much of anything anymore, even when Matthew tried to engage her in a discussion about her beloved fish. There was a bruise – _a hickey, Alfred, his brother would have said, but he would've been wrong because Matthew's perfect older sister didn't get hickeys- _on her collar, and he put a Band-Aid with maple leaves on it. She opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something – _like, "That's a hickey, you idiot, it doesn't need a Band-Aid" and even that would have been better than silence- _but then she apparently decided to humor him. But even though her movements had become mechanical and her words more sparing and resigned, he could tell from the fire in her eyes that the escape plan was still on. In fact, Matthew got the impression it was more serious now than it had ever been.

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><p><em><strong>v. Francis<strong>_

'_Victoria, why have you left me…? Not physically, but in heart and soul. I know I may not show it, but every time you refuse dinner and scratch up the door, it hurts. It hurts me because I worry for you. Aren't you hungry? Do your fingers hurt? Ivan's sister's fingers are screwed up something awful, and I don't want that to happen to you. I don't want anything that happened to Kirkland or Yao or Ivan's families to ever happen to you, don't you understand that? _

_Apparently not, because I tried to show you my love that Thursday. I put all my passion into that. You were more special than Ellen or Eliza and Kaitlin or Katyusha. I wanted to show you somehow that you mean so much more to me than those women I used to bring over. But during that entire time, when we were one in mind and body- and oh goodness, has your body evolved, you're more beautiful than I ever expected- you were resistant and melancholic. When I released you, you wouldn't talk to me, you only clung to….to, um….Mattieu! Mattieu, right, my beloved son…my…why is his face getting so hard to remember? There's a blur next to my darling Victoire in my mind…_

_But why, Victoria? Have I not done everything for you? Have I not shown you enough love? Maybe I'll try it again tomorrow night…'_

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><p><em><strong>vi. Victoria<strong>_

Matthew tried to give Victoria a comforting stroke to her arm, but she flinched away from his touch and scooted to the other side of the room. She almost felt guilty when he winced and looked down at the ground muttering, "Sorry…maple…" She knew him well enough to know that he was going through some sort of self-hating rant in his head now about how _'I always do everything wrong' _and _'I'll never be of any use to anyone no matter how much I try'_. She supposes she should feel bad about enforcing his already low opinion of himself, but the close touch was too much, too soon. She can't even think about human warmth without being reminded of that man. The one she used to call "big brother" and "Francis". The one she now called, with barely-concealed contempt, "you".

Her mind kept darting back to that day, no matter how much she tried to put it behind her. She had been trying to stay strong- to not worry Matthew and to not show that man he had affected her- but she was certain that her puffy, bloodshot eyes and obsessively frequent showers must have tipped someone off. And forgetting the incident would have been a hell of a lot easier (though still the toughest thing she would ever do in her life) if he hadn't come back and done it _again. _

She punched that man in the gut when he came to drag her out of the room, and though he recoiled for a few seconds, he only got angrier and tightened his grip on her wrist. She fought him kicking and screaming every step to the door of the basement, and that man probably would have noticed that his cute little _Mattieu_, the timid, soft-spoken lad who obeyed Francis' every order and adored the man, was glaring daggers at the back of his head…he probably would have noticed if he could have remembered that Matthew was there.

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><p><em><strong>vii. Matthew<strong>_

Matthew surprised both himself and his sister when she came back to the room, clutching at her torn white dress and looking broken and demoralized, by suggesting they move ahead with the escape plan. His tone was soft and his words more pleading than commanding, but the fire in his purple eyes finally matched hers. Matthew wanted to escape for her sake. Though he could no longer stand the man living above them – the man who could no longer be identified as their brother – he could surely have tolerated a life of cowering in a basement and being ignored. That was normal for Matthew. No, what told him that they had to escape immediately was Victoria, because he, as her brother, could not allow her to live like this anymore. They grabbed the essentials from their makeshift basement/bedroom – _water, clothes, maple syrup, goldfish bowl…- _and took a look at the scratched-up door. There was clearly no way for the two to muscle their way through, especially considering their age and relative strength. And so Matthew knew that for their plan, they would have to encounter the beast right away. They would have to summon him themselves, in fact.

"BIG BROTHER! HELP!" he suddenly shouted, though his shout was rather soft and weak. He felt somewhat disgusted using the words "big brother" and tried to picture Alfred, the big brother he never got to know, when saying those words instead of picturing the man that had raised them for years and then showed his true colors.

There were no sounds from upstairs, no recognition of the shout.

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><p><em><strong>viii. Victoria<strong>_

Victoria stepped in front of Matthew and locked eyes with him. "Your voice is too soft…and you know he doesn't really…recognize you anymore…" she attempted to say as gently as possible.

Matthew looked horrified. "But are you sure you can-"

"_Grand frère! M'aider!" _She screamed at the top of her lungs. The feelings in her shout were just as real as they had been when she shouted in bed with him. She thought that, ironically, he would come running down demanding to know who had hurt his precious _Victoire_, even though he had elicited those same hurt screams from her just a single night ago.

She didn't have long to think about the irony before Francis came barreling downstairs, an expectedly frantic look on his face. "WHAT IS IT? _VICTOIRE?" _they heard him call from outside the door. He fumbled with the keys to the basement door, muttering a _merde_ under his breath as if it would help him open the door faster. When he threw open the door, expecting to see fire and bloody, dismembered limbs, he only saw his lovely Victoria and that little blonde boy that seemed to stand around her a lot –_was it Alfred? Because boy would that give Francis an advantage over that snobby Kirkland- _and no apparent emergencies. Breathing a little heavy, he straightened up and cried, "What's wrong? _Victoire? Victoire?_ "

They both shrunk away at the sight of the man. Confused, Francis looked down at Victoria's hands and saw her packed bags. And he understood.

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><p><em><strong>ix. Francis<strong>_

This could not have actually been happening, right?

Francis had prayed every day since locking the two in the basement. He had bought twice as many gifts, made even more delicious food. He had even attempted on two separate occasions to show Victoria the pleasure he felt when with women, to connect the two of them in the way God had intended when He made man and woman.

So why was he seeing Victoria with her bags packed? Rage flew into him at that moment. He had done everything for her, and now she was going to be an ungrateful bitch? She was going to leave him all by himself and crush his heart into pieces? Some other part of his brain chimed into the anger fest, _'And Mattieu! How could __mon __fils__ leave me as well?' _But the rest of his brain didn't really know who that other part was talking about.

And through a combination of anger, hurt, and lingering love for the traitor in front of him, Francis dashed forward and forced a kiss onto her lips. To make her understand. To transfer his feelings to her. And then he slapped her across the face with the same goals in mind.

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><p><em><strong>x. Victoria<strong>_

Victoria fell to the ground, her black heel falling off in the process. _'Good', that man was probably thinking, 'she can't leave without her shoes.' The idiot. _She cradled her bruised cheek in her hand and sneered at the man in front of her. She had felt revolted when he pressed his lips onto hers and had been almost thankful he slapped her away instead of continuing. She didn't have long to feel grateful, however, as he shakily undid his belt and straddled her. She glanced to the side to see that Matthew was standing there, stock-still, his violet eyes open wide in horror. If she hadn't wanted Francis to see her like this, she certainly didn't want Matthew to. She was supposed to be the strong one, and what would he think of her if he could see for himself that she was just another of Francis' playthings, contaminated with that bastard's germs? Still staring at Matthew, she gave a weak uppercut to Francis' jaw. It barely fazed him.

"Where are you looking, sweetheart? I'm over here…" his voice was comforting again, and one would hardly believe that he had just slapped her across the face. He followed her line of sight and his face contorted once again into rage to see she was staring at the blonde kid. As far as he was concerned, the little bitch shouldn't look at other guys while he's pleasuring her, especially not when he's going out of his way to give her a second chance.

Victoria didn't have much warning before an enraged Francis socked her in the jaw and grabbed her by one of her long, wavy pigtails. It hurt like hell, and she spit in his face to stop the torture. However, Francis had reached some sort of fury-boiling point, and by now, the more she resisted, the more it tempted him to continue. He shoved his tongue down her throat and put one hand on the waistband of his pants, preparing to slide them off. His voice was hard and angry, with some sort of underlying excitement in his tone. "Be a good girl, _Victoire…_ I've given you enough chances, don't you agree? Maybe if we get another kid in this house, you'll behave, won't you? Or are you going to be one of those bitchy runaway mothers who-"

Francis' insult went unfinished as he, without warning, fell to the side and began bleeding from the side of his head.

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><p><em><strong>xi. Matthew<strong>_

Did Matthew…just do that? Matthew stared silently at the bloody black heel in his hand and at the French man on the floor. Then he looked down at _his sister, his friend, his everything_ and burst into tears.

She immediately pushed herself off the floor and wrapped Matthew in a tight, tight hug, but he was too busy looking absently at the unconscious body on the floor. He felt empowered, yet somehow…somehow frightened. When he saw Francis' prone body with blood pooling out from the side of his head, Matthew broke the embrace with Victoria and rushed to the man's side. He could remember nothing of the Francis who locked them in the basement and tortured his big sister…he could only remember big brother Francis who took him in when everyone else ignored him and big brother Francis who fed, loved, and cared for him for years. "Big brother!" he wailed, "_Grand frère! Grand frère!" _The memories came pouring back to him. _"You can call me big brother." "Oui… big brother."_And what had Matthew done? He had clocked him upside the head and caused him to lose a severely unhealthy amount of blood. _Mon Dieu_, what if he was…dead?

"Matthew! Hey, Matthew!" Victoria called, shaking him by the shoulder and bringing him back to the real world. "What's the matter? Hey!"

Matthew took a moment to focus, then he wiped furiously at the tears in his eyes. "I- I just…" The words died on his lips and Victoria led him out of the room by the hand, though she was still eyeing him with concern etched on her face, too worried about him to be happy about their victory. As they walked further and further away from the scratched up basement door, Matthew looked back with regret in his eyes.

And though he loved his sister more than anything , more than Alfred and Kumajirou and that man big brother had become, Matthew couldn't think of anywhere he'd rather be than that basement he had been locked in the past few months, laying next to the body of the man that had once been his beloved big brother.

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><p><strong>(AN: Yello, again! *dodges rotten tomatoes* It was a…uh…a plot bunny. You can't blame me for those. They just attack you and don't let you NOT write the story.**

**UH, I'M KINDA NEUTRAL TOWARDS THIS STORY. Which saddens me because it's my little baby who I put a lot of hard work into, but, maybe this just isn't my genre? It was fun to write, less fun to read, I think. (Plus, I think certain things were weak, like Francis' reason for putting them in the basement. "ZOMG ALFRED LEFT YOU? K, LEMME LOCK MY KIDS UP THEN." and Francis forgetting Matthew. I knew I wanted the latter to happen, because I was curious how most authors explain Francis going from loving Matthew to forgetting him constantly, and I wanted to show that Victoria was pretty much the only thing on Francis' mind by that point. But I think it was a little strange and abrupt, like it should have happened more gradually and realistically. )**

**Oh, things I wanted to put into this story that just didn't fit: the word "wanker" (I seriously love this word) and a scene with little Canada asking little America where he learned the term "fuck-buddies", and America telling him that an alien told him that. Which makes Canada roll his eyes and wish to be answered seriously by his brother.**

**Translations~ **

**Dieu = God**

**Petit = little**

**Belle = lovely/pretty**

**L'amour = love**

**Oui = Yes**

**Je t'adore = I adore you (a more familial I love you)**

**Je t'aime = I love you (not very familial -._-.)**

**Ma ****chérie**** = my dear (female)**

**Foie****gras**** = FOOD**

**Grand frère = Big Brother**

**M'aider = Help me**

**Merde**** = Damn it**

**Mon fils = ****My**** son**

**FEEL FREE TO CORRECT ME BECAUSE I AM SURE THIS IS ALL WRONG. I KNOW NO FRENCH. **

**Thank you very much for reading, and please review!)**


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